I took a quick look around; the heat had driven most customers off the street but there were still a respectable number of people in sight. ‘Carry on walking and keep to the centre of the pavement.’ I had now noticed a hackney cab travelling suspiciously slowly near the curb a few yards behind. Was it an attempt to snatch Pedro?
The second man sped up and strode over the road to reach the pavement in front of us. We stopped. With lazy confidence he walked towards us, swinging a cane in his hand. I grabbed Pedro’s arm, determined not to let go. I had a piercing scream, plus a few unladylike moves taught me by Syd if necessary.
The man stopped a few feet from us and bowed.
‘Miss, I think you dropped something.’ He held out a black silk pouch.
What dodge was he up to? Did he think I’d fall for a magsman’s trick like that?
‘You are mistaken, sir,’ I said coolly. ‘That does not belong to me.’
‘Are you sure, miss?’ said the man. His voice was harsh as if he had gargled with iron filings and forgotten to spit them out. He thrust his hand into the bag and drew out a long piece of red hair. ‘My master said you were certain to remember it. ’E swore you’d come along like a little lamb.’
I gripped Pedro’s arm, trying not to show the panic inside. My own hair – cut from my head by a razor eighteen months ago – Billy Shepherd’s calling card.
‘But ’e said, in case your memory was not too sharp today, that we should bring the means to . . . ’ow shall I put it? . . . to ensure that you keep your appointment with ’im.’ He nodded to his friend standing at my back. I heard knuckles crack as the bully flexed his fists.
‘You will not lay a finger on this young lady, you blackguard,’ said Pedro fiercely, stepping in front of me. He knew nothing about the promise I’d given Billy.
‘It’s all right, Pedro.’ I had to get him out of here or we were both in deep trouble. I had to persuade him I wasn’t scared. ‘It’s just the Boil. I . . . er . . . I owe him something.’
‘You don’t owe that sewer rat anything,’ replied Pedro with a proud toss of his head. ‘Look, it’s broad daylight: they can’t take you against your will before all these people.’
He had more faith in the decency of the London man on the street than me. I doubted very much that there were many who would risk taking on these two apes in our defence.
‘If I don’t go now, there’ll be another day – or night – in a dark alley with no witnesses,’ I argued, wishing to spare him a pointless beating.
‘The young lady’s no flat,’ grinned the man, ‘as Mr Shepherd told us. ’E said she’d come nice and easy.’
‘Well, she’s not going without me,’ said Pedro, trapping my hand on his arm under his. ‘You’re not getting into a cab with them on your own, Cat,’ he argued as I tried to pull away.
‘I haven’t got a choice. I’ll have to see Billy if he wants to see me.’
‘So it would seem. But not by yourself. I’m coming too.’
‘Suit yourself, Blackie,’ said the man. ‘You can come for the ride if you like.’
‘Can we have a moment?’ I asked.
Billy’s messenger shrugged and stood off a couple of paces.
‘Pedro, you’d better stay out of this,’ I urged. ‘Remember what he did to you last year – kept you chained up in a pit for days!’
Pedro’s jaw was set. He shook his head.
‘There’s no point both of us disappearing into the Rookeries. If you leave now, you can let Syd know where I’ve gone. That means if I need help – though I doubt I will – you’ll have alerted the gang. If you come with me, Billy will just use you against me – you know what he’s like. He’ll threaten to hurt you just to get at me. I couldn’t bear that.’
Pedro unclenched his teeth.
‘You know Billy and I are old sparring partners. He probably just wants his annual dose of insults from me.’
A pause followed this suggestion and then Pedro nodded. ‘I’ll run and tell Syd. If you’re not back by dark, we’ll come in after you. Agreed?’
‘I’ll be back long before then, don’t you worry.’
‘Agreed?’ he repeated.
‘Yes.’
‘Right. And good luck.’ He squeezed my hand and darted off down Piccadilly before my guard of honour could stop him.
‘The young African gentleman not accompanying you after all, miss?’ asked the messenger sardonically.
‘He had another, more pressing engagement,’ I said airily as if I had not a concern in the world. ‘As do I. I hope your master is not going to keep me long?’
‘No idea, miss,’ he replied, helping me into the cab. ‘’E’s a law unto ’imself, is Mr Shepherd.’
SCENE 2 – THE CROWN JEWELS
I was wrong about the Rookeries. I should have remembered that Billy Shepherd’s empire had grown overnight like a particularly poisonous species of toadstool. He had decided to let his fungus sprout in Bedford Square, Bloomsbury, surrounded by the elegance to which he now aspired; though his roots were still planted not far away in the stews of St Giles where he made his money and ruled his own criminal kingdom.
The cab drew up outside a brick house at the end of the terrace on the southern side, the first floor embellished with a cage-like iron balcony. The front door was framed by an archway of alternating black and white stone, reminiscent of a badger’s snout. Billy had appropriately chosen a fox’s head for his brass knocker. I suppose that made me the first chicken in history to walk voluntarily into the den.
A cool chequered-tile entrance hall stretched out before me. I was glad I happened to be appropriately dressed for my surroundings and could meet the servants’ eyes without embarrassment. I folded my skirt in my fist to hide the pink sherbet stain and followed the butler upstairs, intrigued despite myself to see what Billy was doing with his newfound riches.